


In Your Head

by Inell



Series: Teeny Fic Challenge [35]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dreams vs. Reality, In the Nightmare, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Mutual Pining, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Stiles Has Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 00:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10204349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: After everything is over, Stiles is afraid to fall asleep.





	

**Author's Note:**

> spectrumcrovn said: Holy grail, I am the worst. If you're still doing teeny fics then I've got one for you. Nogitsune/Stiles/Derek (or Nogitsune!Stiles/Derek). Craving some dark stuff… it's been a while and this literally just popped into my mind a few minutes ago.
> 
> When this song came up on shuffle, I figured it was fate. This is not my usual style for this fandom, so I hope it turned out alright & that you enjoy it! Teeny Fic #
> 
> Dreams of war, dreams of liars  
> Dreams of dragon's fire  
> And of things that will bite  
> Sleep with one eye open  
> Gripping your pillow tight  
> Enter Sandman by Metallica

The days are blurring together. Not missing moments like before; no risk of possession now, or so Deaton assures them, but just hours blending into each other until Stiles isn’t sure how long it’s been since Allison’s funeral, since Ethan left town, since he slept more than a handful of minutes at a time. No one seems to realize, caught up in their grief and avoiding him while trying to pretend that they don’t blame _him_ for what’s happened.

Stiles doesn’t need their blame; he’s got enough of his own to go around.

Guilt doesn’t change anything, though.

It doesn’t take him back in time before this started.

It doesn’t make him strong enough to resist the Nogitsune.

It doesn’t bring back all the lives lost.

It doesn’t clean the blood from his hands.

It doesn’t make everything better.

“Another pity party? Aren’t you tired of those yet?”

“You’re not real,” Stiles says, refusing to look up from his laptop screen. An episode of ‘Young Justice’ is streaming on Netflix, and he knows he’s awake because he’s never seen this episode before.

“After all we’ve shared, I’m hurt that you’d say such a thing.” The Nogitsune’s voice is close to his ear, and Stiles shivers when he feels warm breath against his lobe. “You will always find me in the past. I can be created in the present, but the future can never taint me. What am I?”

Instead of talking to something he knows isn’t there, Stiles clicks the volume control on his laptop and increases it. The bed dips beside him, which makes his heart race because he knows he’s not sleeping. Not this time. He’s just talked to his dad, who went to bed early, and Scott texted him about a test in English that’s supposed to happen tomorrow. Still, he looks at his hand. He silently counts: one, two, three, four, five. All there.

“You’re boring me, Stiles.” There’s a cold hand on his chin, forcing his head up, and he finds himself staring into eyes he sees every time he looks in a mirror. “ _What am I_?”

“History.” Stiles jerks his chin away and scrambles across his bed, dumping his laptop over and not stopping until his feet are on the floor. “I’m awake. You’re not real. You aren’t here. You’re gone.”

“I told you before, silly child. I’ll _never_ leave you.” The Nogitsune slowly smiles. “Don’t rush off too soon or you won’t be able to enjoy the gift I’ve brought you.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Stiles says, counting his fingers again. There’s six this time. He blinks and counts again. Only four. “No. There were five.”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll have to kill him, I suppose.” The Nogitsune looks triumphant when Stiles looks up sharply at those words.

“Him?” Stiles looks around his room, only it’s not his room now. No, that’s not right. It’s his room, but it isn’t. There’s more, and he sees a fuzzy shape hidden in the shadows. “Wake up, Stiles. You need to wake up. This isn’t real.”

“What is harder to catch the faster you run?” The Nogitsune is behind him now, his cold hands touching Stiles’ biceps. He’s stroking his arms, the motion almost sensual, like a seduction.

As soon as that thought enters Stiles’ mind, he pushes away, tripping on his own feet and falling on the floor. The shape is still fuzzy, shadowed, but it’s moving. It knows he’s there, knows what’s happening, only it can’t because this is his nightmare. How did he let himself fall asleep? He took precautions. That’s right. He did. He made arrangements ahead of time. That’s what he’s forgotten.

Derek.

Derek is there. In his room. Making sure he stays awake. That’s the deal they made when Derek confronted him about not sleeping. No one else has noticed, but he has. He’s concerned, and he insisted that he’d stay around in case Stiles feel asleep. “If you hurt him, I’ll kill you,” he whispers, blinking as the fuzzy shape takes form. It’s Derek, tied to a chair, fighting against the ropes binding him, a gag in his mouth.

“You didn’t answer my question, Stiles.” The Nogitsune is above him, pushing his back, making him fall flat on the floor. “What’s the answer? If you get it right, I’ll let you enjoy your gift.”

“I don’t know.” Stiles can’t even remember what he’s been asked. He starts to crawl towards Derek, looking into his eyes as a hand grips the back of his shirt and tugs him hard.

“You know,” the Nogitsune growls in his ear, fingers moving into his hair. “Tell me.”

“I don’t…” Stiles closes his eyes. That’s not Derek there. It’s just a bad dream. Derek’s fine. He’s probably not even aware that Stiles is asleep. Or he thinks it’s going to do him good, not realizing sleep is not restful for him. Not anymore. Not with the voice in his head, the evil wearing his own face tormenting him every time he closes his eyes. “You aren’t here. Scott bit you. You’re not here.”

“Yes, I am.” Lips press against his throat, teeth scraping his flesh just hard enough to sting. “You let me in, Stiles. You _always_ let me in. I am you, and you are me. We are each other. Now tell me the answer!”

“My breath.” Stiles opens his eyes and fights, listening to his shirt rip as he manages to get away. He crawls to Derek, reaching out to touch him. He feels real, but nightmares always do. It’s something he’s learned well in recent weeks. “You need to wake me up, Derek. You need to make sure I don’t sleep. You promised you’d keep an eye on me.”

“Isn’t this sweet. I’m starting to feel jealous, Stiles.” The Nogitsune is talking in a sing-song voice that has an underlying edge that makes Stiles shiver with fear. He shouldn’t be scared of the monsters in his head, but he is. He can’t seem to escape him even though he _knows_ he isn’t really there.

Stiles pulls at the knot in the rope, feeling Derek’s muscles flex under his arm, his thighs taut as he struggles against his bindings. As he tries to unknot the rope, he looks at the Nogitsune. "You wanna play? Alright. We’ll play,” he says, fumbling with the rope because his fingers keep changing. Three to seven to five to six. He tries to focus. “I don’t have eyes, but once I did see. Once I had thoughts, but now I’m white and empty. What am I?”

“That’s too easy,” the Nogitsune scoffs, walking over and shoving Stiles away from Derek. His smile is ominous as he reaches out to pull the gag out of Derek’s mouth. “Even this pathetic former alpha must know the answer to that one.”

“Wake up, Stiles,” Derek says, his voice low and raspy. Like he’s been screaming for hours, only Stiles never heard it. Could he have screams in his head that he can’t hear? Is that possible? He blinks at Derek, feeling a rush of anger and fear as the Nogitsune laughs before he straddles Derek’s lap.

“The party’s just getting started, Derek. Why would you want to tell him to do a silly thing like that?” The Nogitsune leans in closer, and Stiles watches Derek look at the creature wearing his face, wearing his body. The body he’s in now isn’t his. Or maybe it is. No one seems to know. It’s an exact copy, mole to mole, but his skin doesn’t feel like it really fits now.

“Leave him alone,” Stiles warns, scrambling to his feet and walking over to them. Only he can’t take another step, his body walking in place while the Nogitsune smirks at him.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Derek. You give me what you want to give him, and I’ll release him,” he says, rolling his hips in a deliberate way. “We can share you, can’t we, Stiles?”

“You never answered my riddle.” Stiles fights against the power keeping him in place. “You don’t know the answer, do you?”

“Let him go,” Derek says, glancing at Stiles before leaning up into the Nogitsune. He kisses Derek, making a show of it, forcing Stiles to watch. It’s not real, but it feels real, and Stiles struggles forward, finally stumbling out of the grip the Nogitsune’s had on him.

“You don’t know the answer,” he says again, tackling the Nogitsune off Derek’s lap and hitting the floor hard. He hits his head when he lands, rolling to get away, but there’s nothing there except his pillow.

“Stiles! Are you alright?” Derek is beside him, looking concerned, no rope burns on his wrists, different clothes than Stiles just saw a moment ago.

“I fell asleep,” Stiles mutters, reaching for Derek and hugging him, needing the connection to reality so he can get out of his head. Derek strokes his back, and he sighs, reaching up to rub his fist against his stinging eyes because he’s so tired of feeling like he’s not on control.

“It’s just a bad dream. C’mon. Let’s get you off the floor and back in bed.” Derek stiffens for a moment, obviously realizing what he’s said and how it sounds.

“When I’ve thought about hearing you say that, it wasn’t ever these circumstances,” Stiles says, trying to attempt a smile to lighten the moment. Derek huffs a laugh but relaxes, so it obviously works.

“You need to see someone about the nightmares, Stiles,” Derek tells him, helping him off the floor. “Therapy might help you move on.”

“I can’t help what I dream about,” he points out, crawling onto his bed and reaching for his laptop. An episode of Leverage is paused, the first one with Wil Wheaton, and he tries to remember why he’d have paused it if he’d fallen asleep watching. “It’s not like I can tell the neighborhood shrink that I’m having nightmares about the ancient fox spirit that possessed me for a few weeks, months, whatever, that my alpha happened to get rid of, but, oh, yeah, he’s still in my head whenever I try to sleep, and he’s really kind of gross with the invasion of personal space thing.”

“There are people you can talk to who know about the supernatural world. I know a couple of names I can refer you to. I’ve been trying to clear up a few things in my own life,” Derek admits, sitting on the bed beside him. “We going to finish that episode now?”

“Sure. I guess you paused it when I fell asleep, huh?” Stiles smiles because that means there’s an explanation for the pausing. Derek shifts beside him, and they both move around for a bit until finally Derek just pulls him against his chest. He’s not really sure what’s happening between them, but there’s always been something there. They just aren’t ignoring it anymore. Not talking about it, either, but at least the pretending it isn’t there has stopped.

“Just relax,” Derek murmurs, reaching over to click the play button. He starts stroking Stiles’ arms, his face brushing against his hair. “I’m not going to let anything ever hurt you, Stiles. I promise.”

“Not really a promise anyone can keep, Derek,” Stiles whispers, leaning against him and slowly relaxing.

When something cool touches his cheek, he blinks, and Derek’s arms move around him, holding him tight. There’s a soft laugh from his right, and an all too familiar voice says, “A skull, Stiles. It’s a skull. Too easy.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


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